Sweet Addiction
by exiled mind
Summary: Jim wants Bones.  Bones wants coffee.  The romance is gone.


Written for the Monday version of the jim_and_bones community's weekly man-on-man for 11/1/10 featuring two men holding coffee mugs and kissing in a kitchen.

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Sweet Addiction

Jim had just hopped up onto the counter and brought the mug of freshly brewed coffee to his lips when Bones shambled into the kitchen. Jim sipped contentedly as he took in the sight before him. Bones' hair was sleep-mussed and hung into his face and his eyes were still half-closed. His pajama pants hung low enough on his hips to reveal a strip of bronze skin and a dusting if hair low on his belly whenever his lazy stretching lifted the hem of his plain white t-shirt.

Enjoying the view, Jim took a large gulp of his coffee and yelped a moment later when the heat of the liquid registered.

Bones didn't notice Jim's distress any more than he'd picked up on the source of Jim's distraction.

″Coffee,″ he grumbled, arm already reaching out for the mug waiting on the counter by Jim's left hip. Apparently his eyesight was functional enough to direct him to his drug of choice.

Jim smiled as Bones stepped close to him and leaned forward minutely, only to be completely passed over as Bones leaned across his hips and grasped the handle of the steaming mug.

Jim's eyes narrowed.

Bones, raising the mug to his full lips, didn't notice, his full attention – or what there was of it at this hour at least – on getting the coffee into his system as soon as possible.

Jim watched as Bones took the first sip, seemingly oblivious to both his audience and the temperature of the liquid, and smiled. He returned the mug to his mouth and took another, longer sip. After this one was savored and swallowed, Bones made a sound that Jim could only classify as obscene. And Bones' hands were wrapped lovingly around the mug as though it was his favorite present on Christmas morning.

″The honeymoon is over,″ Jim stated flatly. ″The romance is gone.″

Bones, apparently able to hear him over the coffee-sex noises, raised his eyes from the mug – finally – and settled his gaze on Jim, lifting an eyebrow for good measure. He took another long sip before responding. ″We've been together for six years, Jim. The honeymoon's been over for ages. And since when do you mourn a lack of romance?″

″Since my partner apparently prefers drinking the bitter brew over kissing me good morning.″

″The coffee was _right there,_ did you expect me to ignore it?″

″You had to _reach over me_ to get it!″

″I did?″ Bones actually looked perplexed and took a step back to examine the room and Jim for a moment as if trying to retrace his steps. ″I don't really remember much before the first sip.″

″My point exactly.″ Jim took an absent sip of coffee, then, realizing what he was doing, frowned down at it. Traitor.

He forced himself back to the discussion at hand. ″There was once a time we'd have had morning wake-up sex twice before we'd even think about making coffee. Now you're not only choosing it over me, but you're completely forgetting about my existence.″ Jim shook his head mournfully.

Bones stepped closer to the counter and his free hand came up to grip Jim's neck, pulling him into a kiss. Jim returned the kiss, but didn't push for more, pulling back after a moment to allow it to remain a perfunctory morning peck.

Forehead creased in concern, Bones placed his mug on the counter and gripped Jim's knees, spreading them to allow him room to press close to Jim. ″Jim...″ Bones seemed genuinely contrite and was clearly at a loss for words.

Having difficulty restraining the laughter that wanted to bubble out of him, as well as figuring he'd made his point, Jim released an overly dramatic sniffle.

It worked, it would seem, since Bones' grip on his knees tightened and his eyes narrowed. Jim widened his eyes into his patented innocent expression. The corners of Bones' mouth twitched into a grin and he shook his head. ″You little shit.″

Jim took another sip of his coffee, smiling into the mug. ″Drink your coffee, Bones.″

Bones mock-scowled and shook his head, taking Jim's mug from his hand and placing it safely on the counter by his own abandoned mug. ″Oh no, not after that little show. I figure I've got a point to make, now.″

Bones gripped Jim's hips firmly and pulled him to the very edge of the counter then pressed his own body firmly against Jim's. Their warmth passed easily through thin clothing, their heat mingling. Bones claimed Jim's mouth with his own in a searing kiss, pulling Jim in, biting softly at his lips and then pulling away for a moment only to dive back in for more. His hands roved Jim's back, pressing into his shoulder blades one moment and then teasing just under the waistband of Jim's pajamas the next.

Bones pulled the figurative rug out from under Jim and didn't give him a moment to regain his equilibrium. Jim couldn't say he really minded. Then again, in this state, he couldn't say much of anything at all.

When Bones finally released his mouth Jim felt like he hadn't taken a breath in a year. He was weirdly okay with that, considering the quality of the kissing. Bones carded his fingers through the hair at Jim's nape and Jim could feel the warmth of his palms on his neck.

″Better?″ Bones asked, a smirk on his face.

″It's a start,″ Jim replied, smiling, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug, held tightly against Bones' chest. Bones dropped his hands to Jim's back and pressed his face into Jim's neck. Jim could feel tiny kisses pressed to his collarbone and shoulder as Bones' hands roamed the muscles of his back. He sighed deeply and could feel himself relaxing with every press and nip.

After a moment of this, Bones placed his chin on Jim's shoulder and they rested there, Jim sitting on the counter, Bones standing between his legs, wrapped around him as much as their positions would allow.

Jim was just thinking that he could, perhaps, stay like this all morning when Bones lifted his head and sniffed, his attention fixed on something beside them.

″Ooh, croissants!″

Jim sighed.


End file.
